


stare.

by zombiejosette



Category: Dark Shadows (1966), Dark Shadows - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiejosette/pseuds/zombiejosette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>apodyopis - the act of mentally undressing someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stare.

**Author's Note:**

> originally published on tumblr (@slutshaminghamilton) 10/12/2013.

The stare persists even when Roger is sober, Victoria notices: the glazed-eyed look from across the room that makes the back of her neck tingle (and she remembers the first night on Widows’ Hill, the familiar buzz against her skin of simply being watched before he’d even emerged from the bushes). She bites her tongue and says nothing, gives no acknowledgment; when she turns, usually that’s enough. A stammered sentence toward her or a set jaw and a purposeful look at the floor or the wall are all the confirmation she needs.

He mutters something, once, an stubborn comment about the necklace she’s worn (of all things) and the station she has and he’s drunk this time, she knows. She’s seen him down them one by one before the hour’s out, and this time when she turns, she meets his gaze. Direct eye-contact, and he does not look away, even as he stands as though the breath’s been knocked from him.

She holds it. Says nothing. His eyes drop to the floor and she watches the bob of his throat as he swallows and the drawing room is quiet; she hears the faintest gasp for air.

Victoria leaves the room and his eyes follow, trailing the path she’s taken until they hit her ankles. She feels the warmth there first, traveling up her legs and over her hips to the small of her back and onward. It gives hesitance to her step. He trains intently on the back of her neck and she can almost feel the necklace fall down her chest and to the floor and she wills herself to move and she wills herself to stay. Up, up, he undoes the pins from her hair, perhaps, lets it fall long and dark and curling toward her face. She does not notice as her breath hitches, but there comes a hum of a laugh and the clink of ice from just inside the oak doors, and suddenly she’s free.

Her knees buckle, nearly, but she crosses to the staircase and relishes in its support as she makes her way upstairs.

She does not lock her door.


End file.
